Lately, as summer comes and the hours are free for such things as reading, I find myself increasingly drawn to reading other blogs. Perhaps on account of missing Torrey, and all connected with it, I wandered over to the Scriptorium (see fourth link on my “Favorite Links” column). To my pleasant surprise, I saw that the featured essay had been written recently by my mentor, Dr. Robert Llizo. During the spring semester particularly, but throughout this entire year, I have learned valuable lessons from him; and so I read his post See here: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/scriptorium/2012/05/what-i-learned-from-john-mark-reynolds/
Maybe Dr. Llizo’s voice affords readers a certain advantage, because in my mind as I read, I imagined him reading it aloud, as he often does from the Vulgate (or, early this semester, from the Aeneid) in session. Also typical of Dr. Llizo, I found myself obliged to look up words such as pedagogy (the function or work of a teacher) and, of course, the lyrics to “Bonnie Charlie” (see below).
It was the last paragraph, however, that meant the most to me. How relevant to our lives, and written so succinctly! In it, Dr. Llizo ruminates on teaching, which has often been an interesting subject to me as it relates to Torrey. I often find myself wondering what goes through our tutors’ minds as they lead us, or (quite courageously of them) allow us to lead ourselves.
“Effective teaching begins with knowing who you are, what your limits are, and where the possibilities lie in those limits. Education is best done in the context of a great conversation, one that probes deeply into our assumptions about life and the cosmos. This conversation invites us to lay open these deeply-held beliefs, to cultivate humility in casting off what is false, and the resolve to build on what is true and lasting. This conversation must begin with love, not only of ideas, but of the people with whom we are in dialogue. People are more important than ideas, for in the encounter with another human being, we come face to face with immortality. We touch eternity in the meeting of minds and hearts,” writes Dr. Llizo.
I almost swell with gratitude for such an opportunity to learn in this way. It gives me hope that maybe I can teach my children something. It offers profound freedom, to recognize that learning does not require four walls and a handful of desks, but is found in the well-informed “great conversation” of God’s Word and the classic works of His people. Principles of love, humility, and resolve are evident in our tutors, and Dr. Llizo treats them here with the care that I believe can only come from someone who truly finds God’s purpose in the job he does every day. Having had a decent share of teachers who cared much less, I want to recognize his post.
In the words of the aforementioned “Bonnie Charlie,”
Whene'er I hear the blackbird sing,
Unto the evening sinking down,
Or merl that makes the wood to ring,
To me they hae nae other sound
Will ye no come back again?
Will ye no come back again?
Better lo'ed ye canna be,
Will ye no come back again?
Looking forward to see us all come back again, and in the meantime, I am learning to more fully appreciate what we’ll be coming back to.
For more on Education from Torrey faculty, see Dr. Peters’ post: “An Invitation to Education” (http://www.patheos.com/blogs/scriptorium/2012/05/an-invitation-to-education/).
